


a world too often

by wearethewitches



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fake Marriage, One Shot, Timeline What Timeline, heavily implied lemony plus beatrice equals violet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-19 02:49:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17593205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearethewitches/pseuds/wearethewitches
Summary: “What say you, Mrs Snicket?” he questions her, as though he does not hesitate for a hairs breadth of time between his question and her undercover name.-or Jacques and Olivia live, the Fire at Baudelaire Mansion happened earlier and they are trying.





	a world too often

The Baudelaire’s are too young.

Violet is thirteen. She should be in school doing advanced placement classes in engineering, physics, mathematics – not holed up in the garage with Jacques’ old taxi, taking it apart and remaking it in silence. Klaus is eleven and much similarly should be in school, studying literature and world history, not curling up in the library as far away from the fireplace as he can.

Sunny is a baby. She was a veritable newborn when her parents died and sometimes, Olivia wonders if she even knows that she’s not really a Snicket. It has been a long time since the word _Baudelaire_ has been whispered, let alone spoken aloud.

“I can sense your fretting, Miss Caliban.”

Olivia shoots Jacques a narrow-eyed look. “ _Jacques,_ ” she hisses, “Don’t call me that. You know what’s at stake.”

“Olaf is dead. Esme is chasing opportunities,” Jacques replies, far too at ease as he wraps an arm around her waist. “But I acquiesce to my darling wife’s demand.”

Olivia closes her eyes, looking away from him. _Wife._ Oh, how she wishes it were really true.

“What say you, Mrs Snicket?” he questions her, as though he does not hesitate for a hairs breadth of time between his question and her undercover name. “Your state of discontent is clearly visible and I would not call myself a good friend nor a good volunteer, if I did not try setting the world to rights.”

“Friend,” Olivia whispers, “Is that what you are?”

Jacques’ brow furrows and he gently turns her to face him. They are pressed against each other, her back to the bookshelf in their library and while it still makes her heart race, it is normal – it is a pretence she has _had_ to get used to, if they want to keep this charade of a happy family in front of strangers and the useless Mr Poe. They live in a glass house, held together by threads, valid familial DNA and a false marriage.

“Olivia…” he says, voice tense.

“We adopted your niece and her siblings, one-” and Olivia gets to her breaking point, reaching to clutch Jacques’ shirt, remembering what had happened just this very day before she put Sunny to bed “-one who called me _Mama_ , today. I don’t think it had sunk in, what I volunteered to do when we got married, not until Sunny said that.”

“Oh, _Olivia,_ ” Jacques says and he kisses her forehead, hand coming to clasp her cheek as she cries. “We are family. I am sorry you did not see before. We will raise these children together and if we never fall in love – if we never become the traditional husband and wife who cherish and love each other as only partners in life can – I can only hope our friendship will prevail in the face of this burden.”

“The children could never be a burden,” Olivia chokes, wiping at her face. “I love them so much, Jacques.”

“As do I. Not a burden, then, but…but a privilege,” Jacques whispers and he is still caressing her cheek as he lowers his forehead to hers. They share a quiet moment, before he murmurs, “And I did not mean the children, when I spoke. _You_ are a privilege, Olivia Snicket.”

Olivia can’t help the small, ridiculous giggle that escapes her mouth. “I am?”

“Any person would be honoured to have you as their wife,” Jacques claims with a smile, “just as I am. You are a wonderful woman, a brave and noble volunteer and a librarian worthy of the Great Library of Alexandria.”

“Thank-you, Jacques,” Olivia replies, smiling back at him. “And you are noble too, remember? A noble volunteer amongst the common peoples of this Earth.”

“And handsome,” he adds, incorrigible.

“And handsome,” Olivia repeats, not expecting him to blink in surprise.

“You- you think I am handsome?”

“You’ll wear out that word, eventually,” Olivia answers, avoiding the question for mere moments. Then, she nods, tightening her hold on his jacket. “I am very fortunate to have such a dashing husband.”

Jacques is quiet. Then his hand slips down from her cheek to her chin, tilting it ever-so-gently, ever-so- _slowly_. He’s giving her a chance to back away and Olivia holds her breath as she pushes forth, their lips pressing together. It’s chaste and warm, not passionate, perfervid or perfect – but them, with the silence of the library and the soft electric lights above their heads an island of solitude just for them, here and now.

Around them, the world is quiet.


End file.
